Chapter 174
Chapter 174
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 174
Chapter Title: 83. Rumor (3)
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"Hello. I am Doctor M. Chang."
I practiced acting as Professor M. Chang in front of the mirror.
My pronunciation wasn't bad. My voice was decent too.
However, I looked far too young and stylish.
I couldn't fool that paranoid gang boss with this.
But if I mixed in a few ingredients, tricking the gang boss wouldn't be that hard.
I had several DVDs.
They contained all sorts of knowledge I could use in an isolated post-war situation: medicine, architecture, electricity, construction, clothing production, survival skills, beatboxing, and more.
Among them, I knew one featured a Chinese professor in the internal medicine section.
In the short lecture video, a doctor in a white coat explained internal medicine conditions fluently in English. After careful review, his visual matched perfectly as a candidate for Professor M. Chang.
I hit print screen during playback to capture the frame, then pasted it into Paint.
Next, I cut out just the professor's image, meticulously erased the name tag on his chest.
I copied another part of the white coat, pasted it over the name tag, and blurred the edges to blend it seamlessly. Even I had to admit it looked smooth.
Now I lowered the resolution of the nameless professor's photo and added his new name below it.
DR. M. Cheng
Profile photo complete.
Next up: dubbing.
First, I took the rumor I'd written earlier, translated it to English using the Viva! Apocalypse! translation feature, and displayed the script on screen.
Then, using the high-quality mic for beatboxing after the script, I dubbed it myself, matching the doctor's lip movements.
"Hello. I am Doctor M. Chang. Master School of Mutation and Monster."
I played back the greeting.
"......"
It felt good.
This should easily fool even that paranoid gang boss.
In high spirits, I continued the work when the roar of engines came from the US base.
Peering through the periscope, I saw a jeep with headlights on racing lightly toward us.
Click-
Work was work, vigilance was vigilance.
I stepped outside and eyed the jeep's direction.
It turned right at the east intersection, crossed the bridge, and headed straight here.
No doubt about it.
They were entering my territory.
Had they spotted me?
I grabbed the recoilless rifle, two rifles, and three magazines, then headed for the decoy bunker.
Against raiders targeting the bunker, ambushing from outside offered better survival odds than holing up inside.
Defending from within was a last resort.
Plus, it was the dead of night.
I hid below the ridgeline, relying on ears over eyes to track the raiders' movements.
I avoided direct observation in case they had infrared gear.
On the chilly winter earth mound, I gauged their actions by sound alone. Their vehicle stopped in front of my main bunker.
A few disembarked.
Two.
But probably not just two total.
Could be four or five.
The worst case: they had a detection Awakener.
Then I'd have to fight.
But I didn't feel disadvantaged.
This was my home ground.
Taking on an old-school Hunter with just jeep passengers wasn't smart.
Thud, thud-
Footsteps headed up the hill.
I held my breath, watching eastward.
Mindful of detection Awakeners, I shifted positions stealthily from blind spots.
"See anything?"
First voice. Hilltop.
"Fuck, not even a light."
Another man replied.
"Where'd you get it?"
"Dunno."
"This sucks."
"Can't we just grab anyone and kill 'em?"
"You idiot. Not everyone turns zombie when killed. Needs the virus. Virus."
"By the way, no smell?"
"What smell?"
"Shit and piss."
Four participants in that chat.
Positions pinpointed by voices.
Easy to kill.
Break cover and snipe: one shot per man, done.
But I held back.
That patience stemmed from experience.
As team leader for demon monster hunts, I'd made countless calls.
Judgments fell into two types: long-term and short-term.
Scope limited to mission nature and success thresholds.
My current mission: defend territory long-term, undetected.
They weren't after me or my bunker. Their actions suggested they wanted high ground for oversight.
Highest spot here, best vantage. Voices from hill confirmed it.
No need to kill if not targeting me.
Even if threatening raiders.
If only these, I'd wipe clean like Defender.
But they had base allies.
Kill one, more come.
Of course, sparing killable foes wasn't easy.
Temptation to silent axe-kill surged repeatedly.
Inevitable—they'd smelled remnants of my droppings in my pit traps.
Beneath murderous turmoil, raiders loaded up and left.
"......"
Situation over.
Jeep headed east.
Can't confirm judgment accuracy.
But no regrets.
Responsibility mine alone now, unlike before.
*
Even amid midnight crisis, my resolve never wavered.
"...... This is extremely dangerous. Mankind must be prepared. Thank you."
Completed dubbing Professor M. Chang's interview video.
No need for flawless pronunciation.
Forcing tongue twists would sound amateurish.
Instead, stiff, alien yet familiar Asian accent.
Short one-minute clip, but quality high.
Lip sync perfect.
Editing not pro-level to erase name tag fully, so left black noise blotch there, dropped resolution to 320x200.
Placing this photo and video in Professor Edmond K. Park's entry—colleague of M. Cheng.
No such entry, so added brief bio, naturally mentioning co-researcher M. Cheng.
With Valentine's help, backdated to pre-war.
Before dawn, posted new thread.
SKELTON: (Skeleton's Chilling Tales) Some don't believe US base zombie virus lab. Link attached.
SKELTON: Failnet - AntWiki - See Dr. Edmond K. Park entry
"......"
Slept poorly, but satisfaction high.
This effort should convince even paranoid gang boss to pull minions.
He seemed casual about airport grab out of greed; no real gain holding this area.
Far from Incheon/Seoul, nothing but concrete US bunker.
Airport? Planes coming back?
Incheon evacuated all.
King might need fighters, but doubtful he has luxury.
Second hook cast, began day's watch.
Eyelids heavy, but used to it.
Quietly observed them.
Still thorough perimeter watch.
Some zoomed scopes on suspects; others flew drones overhead.
Obviously, hid in bunker/hut when drones up.
"......"
Tough neighbors.
Longer they stay, higher my stress.
If no leave, plotting mass kill not bad.
Slaughter 22 at once, King can't casually reinforce.
Impossible caveat: kill all before radio contact.
Not entirely impossible.
Everyone slacks sometime.
Trained thugs? Still party hard one day.
While scheming Plan B, jeep from east.
Same one from last night.
Four—no, five aboard.
One not human.
Corpse. Zombie.
Head hole, crudely dressed in military-like clothes.
Gang cheered as jeep arrived.
Zombie tossed out.
Thugs laughed uproariously, filming with phones.
That puzzled me.
No zombies in Sejong City?
Zombies everywhere in this ruined world—rare enough for group phone pics?
I didn't get it.
Day passed in doubt.
Sunset, checked hook.
No comments, unlike before.
No King message.
Unseen? Or ignored?
Rain that night.
Exhausted from all-nighter, donned raincoat, cleaned old pit toilet with rainwater, over and over.
My stench soaked in; washed body repeatedly.
Mud heavy as cotton, but ignored.
Necessary labor.
Mandatory.
Scrubbed till no smell, filled with muddy soil using shovel.
*
Another day gone.
Thugs still hunkered at base.
No change.
No King message, no comments.
Tempted to repost, but duplicates breed suspicion.
Left it.
Rumor just one option to clear territory threat.
Pity effort wasted, but abandoning failed ops is leader judgment.
I don't hesitate dumping long labors.
That trait built my heartless rep.
Rumor bust: next best, total wipe.
Die either way, low-odds gamble fine. No slow boil like frog in pot.
Rebecca's two Claymores, recoilless gun.
Pondering one-shot kill methods, dozed briefly.
*
Music woke me.
Not hearing wrong.
Someone blasting high-output amp.
US base.
Gang's doing.
Stepping out, eyed base—couldn't believe eyes.
Drunken revelry.
Homemade whiskey, soju, mystery meat grilling; music blaring, dancing, screaming like maniacs.
"......"
Sudden miracle: briefly doubted God's nonexistence.
Maybe real God granting miracle.
All 22 in party.
No trace of usual tight watch.
Ambush now: solo wipe easy.
Two Claymores, rake with recoilless or rifle—gone in one go.
Geared up, checked movements outside.
All-night binge faded by 3 AM.
Raiders nodding off one by one.
One lightly drunk sentry, but silent kill easier than snapping kid's arm.
Loaded gear, approached base.
Avoided sensors, crossed half-collapsed barbed wire lugging near-20kg pack.
Enemy close.
Axe to nape: crumple silently.
"......"
Choice mine now.
Kill sentry, then inside one by one.
King hit hard, sends investigators—but charred bodies tell what?
Moment drew axe quietly.
Sentry suddenly snickered, muttered.
"Zombie virus? Fuck, bullshit."
Sentry turned.
"Hm?"
Tilted head.
"Something there?"
He right.
I was there.
But now back over wire, observing.
Won't kill him.
Won't touch gang.
My judgment.
Reason unclear.
Pure gut.
Team leader sense: long-term wrong.
Maybe last chance ever, but left 22 defenseless raiders, retreated to territory.
No regrets on choice.
*
Miracles don't come often.
Thus, when they do, mortals struggle to recognize.
Yesterday's seemed miracle, wasn't.
True miracle: lazy spring sun rose morning.
Raiders packing.
Whistling, laughing, chattering; collected sensors/gear, assembled at runway.
Truck arrived noon.
22 boarded fully, left base.
Prime threats self-removed.
King attached photo.
Another woman in animal mask.
"......Crazy bastard?"
I rarely mutter, but couldn't hold curse.
Calmed excitement, pondered.
Why film zombie corpse?
Smiled faintly.
That was it.
Raiders human too.
Have thoughts, desires.
Hated this place.
No women, no people; boring, unsafe wasteland.
King mentioned zombie virus; they schemed.
Filmed zombie excitedly for that.
Party on evacuation day.
Nearly total death for me, but I held; became perfect outcome.
Territory siege ended best way.
No deaths, no suspicion, even gained King's favor.
"......"
Time for beatbox vid.
That mood.
Beatbox mandatory today.
No other joy outlet.
Ding~
"Hm?"
Comment alert.
Who?
Recent post only King bait.
Second bait got comment.
The M. Cheng dubbing link.
Trembling, checked.
[83. Rumor (3)] End